Sweet Revenge
by Mrs Jace Wayland-Herondale
Summary: Clarissa Morgenstern was raised by the best of the best; Valentine Morgenstern. Valentine taught her to be tough and to fight, Jocelyn taught her to be compassionate and loving. When her parents are killed in front of her by a Greater Demon, Clary vows to avenge them, even if it kills her. What happens when Clary's journey takes her to New York City, and she meets the Lightwoods?
1. Chapter 1

**Here is my new fanfic! My second ever, and I hope you enjoy(: Please read and review, give any suggestions, or if you see something wrong, let me know! **

**Enjoy!(:**

**Disclaimer: I own only the plot and any OC's**

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For centuries, shadowhunters have lived and fought, spilling their sweat and blood to defend the unsuspecting human world. Nephilim die every day. Our kind die by the hands of demons, they die to protect others, they die because that is what we do. We fight, we die; It's a simple fact of life- for shadowhunters and mundanes. Too bad mundanes are too oblivious to see what is going on right under their noses; it's sad, really. To be so blind would be horrible; it would make you weak and worthless. Staying ahead of the game is the only way to survive in this world.

Good thing I was trained by the very best.

Valentine Morgenstern, one of the greatest shadowhunters of his generation, was my father. Jocelyn Fairchild, a well-known artist throughout the shadow world, was my mother. She painted all sorts of things; family portraits for the rich, great murals for the Clave. She even sketched a few things for the latest edition of the Shadowhunter Codex. That is, until they were murdered, right before my eyes.

But, I'm a big girl now. I vowed to avenge them. I will find that worthless 'greater' demon and destroy him. Those kinds of demons are unworthy of being called 'greater' demons. They are repulsive, evil creatures that should be killed. Then again, all shadowhunters feel this way, and I'm not the only one who has lost a parent, or even both. That's why I decided to suck it up and deal with it. That's life.

I'm thankful for the time I had with my parents. They were caring, loving, and they trained me to be the best of _my _generation. My mother was beautiful, and had an amazing affinity for art. I inherited all of my physical traits from her, from my curly red hair, straight down to my short stature and love of art. My other talents though, are all thanks to my father's nonstop training. My father was a sort of prodigy throughout the shadow community; demons trembled at the mention of his name. Downworlders stayed out of his way, and allied themselves with him when needed, just to be on his good side. Young shadowhunters looked up to him in awe. That's my father, and I am his daughter: fierce, strong, and loyal above all else_. I am Clarissa Morgenstern._

And now, many years later, I find myself aimlessly walking the foreign streets of New York City. Growing up in Idris, there were no cars with blaring horns, no jumbo-trons screaming at you to buy redundant mundane items, and everything was _quieter _and much more peaceful. Here, everything is all hustle bustle and rude people and noise.

The sun is setting as I turn onto a much quieter, industrial section of the large city. The putrid smell of rotting garbage is strewn in the grimy streets, and abandoned warehouses line along the shore of the toxic-looking river.

Stopping in a narrow side alley, I pull out my witchlight and scout the alley for danger. Deeming the area clear for now, I return the smooth stone to my pocket and lean against the grimy brick wall letting my head fall back, and closing my eyes. I silently pull out my stele and trace a hearing rune onto my neck, feeling the tip glide over the faded scar where I have re-applied that rune countless times. I put my stele away and breathe in deeply, centering myself and listening. Listening for what? I don't know yet, but I listen for anything, any signs of demonic or downworld activity. Something to bide my time.

Other than the occasional skittering of rats and the constant noise from the city proper, there is nothing. After what seems like eons of waiting, I hear a faint rustle in the distance, the comforting sound of metal on metal, clicking together, and thick leather clothing brushing together quietly. Shadowhunters, from the sounds of it. The way they walk is careful and precise, yet I can still hear it from a far distance. The tell-tale signs of demons drift through the air as well, making my nose scrunch up at the disgusting smell. Like garbage, but a hundred times worse. The smell is worse than rotting garbage and feces- disgusting and putrid.

The clicking and slithering noises drift my way as well, so I straighten up from my position leaning against the wall, itching to join in a fight. After tracing silence, strength, and agility runes onto my pale, already-scarred skin, I slink my way in the general direction of the noises. Seeing a closed dumpster right up against a low building, I easily jump onto it, and quickly scale the side of the wall, and stand in a crouch at the top of the building.

From the new vantage point, I can see some of the skyline, but skyscrapers and smog clouds the rest of it. Scanning the ground, I catch movement out of the corner of my eye, and turn just in time to see the flash of a leather sheathed sword disappear into a crumbling warehouse building. _So, here are the shadowhunters I heard earlier. _Staying in a crouch, I move to the edge of the roof and gracefully drop down, never losing my balance.

_Well they aren't watching their backs very well; If I were a demon I could have already killed them, _I think with a small frown on my face as I edge to the doorway that they entered through. Stopping with my back against the wall next to the open door, I slowly peer around the corner and into the warehouse. Standing there were three young shadowhunters, all of them looking to be around my age- seventeen. The leader, obviously the eldest, has a quiver of arrows on his back and a bow in hand, and his black hair contrasts beautifully with his piercing blue eyes. The girl has long black hair, like her brothers, and they looked like they could be twins if not for her dark brown eyes. A beautifully crafted electrum whip was partially wrapped around her wrist, with the rest dangling down, ready at any moment.

It was the last boy that really caught my eye, though. He looked like the complete polar opposites of the other two. If they were night, then he was day, with his golden halo of hair and eyes that looked like liquid gold. While the dark-haired siblings had a milky pale complexion, similar to my own, the blonde boy had a perfect golden tan that people pay big money for, and he seemed to glow with his own light. I don't pay much attention to boys or dating, but this boy- no, this _man_- is absolutely stunning. I feel as if looking too long will burn my eyes, like trying to stare at the sun. _They're here for a reason, there are demons nearby. I can't be distracted by a boy I don't even know. _

The trio falls silent, nodding in agreement. They draw their weapons and silently stalk their way further into the warehouse. In order to keep them in my line of sight, I have to follow their lead, staying in the shadows and behind old crates.

As we progress forward- well, as I follow them- the slithering and skittering demon sounds become louder and more predominant in the creaky old building. The three shadowhunters turn a corner, so I edge up against the wall and stand there listening. With a bang that sounds like someone breaking down a door, followed instantly by the sounds of seraph blade slicing demons, I turn the corner and see the three enter a large room.

Deciding to keep my distance, I crouch on a crate that gives me a perfect view of the room through the huge doors. I see the leader, the boy with the black hair, standing near the entrance still and letting arrows fly into various demons. The other two are also faring well on their own; the tall girl flicks her electrum whip around a demons torso, and slices the demon in half. It shrivels and folds in on itself.

The beautiful blonde boy has a seraph blade in each hand and dances around, slaying demon after horrid demon. He is very well trained, obviously, and the way he moves is smooth and graceful, yet deadly at the same time. His movements mesmerize me and I find myself staring. I probably shouldn't stare, I should be focused and watch my own back, but looking away doesn't seem like an option.

Luckily, some part of my instincts were still working, not very quickly, but they worked none-the-less. While watching the golden boy, I barely caught a shimmering movement out of the corner of my eyes. It looked like a shadowy mist, and it didn't have any shape to it at all.

It took me a moment to ponder what it was, but when I did, a hand flew to my mouth and the tears sprung to my eyes. I haven't cried since my parents' death, and I certainly will not cry now. I especially won't cry for the greater demon that literally scared my parents to their grave.

Agramon, the demon of fear, was in this very building, probably feeling up the other shadowhunters' minds so that it could morph into their greatest fears. The demon did not sense me, so I was safe for the time being. I pulled out my stele and drew the fearless rune onto my chest. There is no rune like it anywhere; not in the Grey Book, not in the Codex, and not in any other book either. I created this rune right before my parents died; they knew what was going to happen to them, so my mother had me think hard, think about being brave and strong, and the image came to my mind right then and there. I drew the rune onto me, and that's the only thing that saved me from the greater demon that killed them.

I had to help the other shadowhunters, I'm the only one who can. Whilst drawing the rune onto me, I hear a bloodcurdling scream, a scream that chilled me to the bone.

Without looking into the room, I edge up and lean my back against the wall, then peek around the corner. The blonde boy and the girl stop to stare at the blue-eyed boy who is screaming bloody murder at nothing. When they turn to where he is pointing, their eyes go wide. The girl drops to the ground and covers her face screaming no, stop, over and over again. The golden, blonde boy looks starkly pale, like all the blood has drained from his body.

I know I have to do something, so I grab the small flask of Holy Water that I keep on me at all times, and run towards the mist.

"Hey!" I scream, and successfully catch its attention. The others drop to the ground unconscious. I can see a vague face in the mist, and it leers at me. When it discovers that its power won't work, I leer back at it and fling the water onto it. A hissing noise comes from the shadow, and its dark tendrils recoil in pain. With a laugh I grip my three blessed daggers by the blade, ignoring the sharp pain and blood trickling on my hand, and I expertly throw them at Agramon. Surprisingly, the daggers do not go right through it, they hit dead center and stay there. The mist slowly dissipates with a hiss, and I know it will be back soon.

I walk over to the dark-haired boy since he seems to be the most affected. I draw a calming rune, as well as an iratze for any other injuries. Then, I do the same for the girl, and the golden boy.

When I get to the blonde boy, I kneel down and my heart speeds up a little. Blood trickles down his head, so I draw an iratze on his neck. To make sure the wound healed, I brushed back his soft golden curls and inspect his head. He stirs and groans a little bit at my touch.

"Can't keep your hands off, can you Red?" he mutters under his breath and his eyes open a slit. I sit back on my heels at shock that he recovered so quickly. "Ah!" he hisses in pain when he tries to sit up, so I help him into a sitting position and lean away again.

"We need to get out of here, that demon will be back soon," I say urgently, and he just looks at me.

"Who are you?" he asks with curious sparkle in his eyes.

"Not important. Get up, we have to go," I repeat in a stern tone, and hold out a hand to help him up. He refuses the helping hand, and gets up on his own, with some difficulty, might I add.

"Get Isabelle, I'll get Alec," he says and points to the girl who is on the ground still.

I kneel next to her and gently shake her shoulder, trying to wake her up. When that doesn't work, I panic a bit and have to check her pulse to make sure she's alive. The pulse is steady and strong, thankfully, but she still doesn't wake up.

"She's out cold," I call over to the others and the blonde boy walks over to help, but I pick up Isabelle on my own with little difficulty. The dark haired boy, Alec slowly walks over to us with a guarded look on his face.

"Who are you?" he asks sharply and watches me closely, probably to make sure I don't hurt his sister.

"Look, I just saved your asses, if I wanted to do anything, I would've already," I snap at him and he looks annoyed. I hand Isabelle to him and walk over to a wall and pull out my stele.

When I start to trace the portal rune, also one of my creation, I get more questions, but I wave them off. As soon as the portal is finished, I wave towards it.

"It'll take you to your Institute. You're welcome, by the way," I add on sarcastically, since no one thanked me.

"You're not going to come with us? Our mother runs the New York Institute and she'll have questions," the dark haired boy explains with a weary expression. He obviously wants some answers.

"No, I have things to do, people to save," I smirk at them sarcastically and turn to leave; I made the portal to close right after them.

"Hey!" the blonde boy yells and jogs up to me, catching my wrist before I can escape. "Jace Herondale. Still didn't catch your name," he says in a tone that would make a mundane girl swoon, or probably feint.

I pull my wrist free easily and put my hand on my waist, and attempt a one eyebrow raise, but it doesn't work out very well.

"That's for me to know, and for you to find out," I say mysteriously, then add on a little more. "Or not. Good luck, Goldie Locks." I turn on my heel and leave before he can say anything, but I can feel his gaze burning into the back of my head as I walk away, disappearing into the shadows.


	2. Chapter 2

**Wow guys! I got an amazing response to the first chapter! Thank you so much for reading, you guys rock! Here's chapter 2!(:**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot!**

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Finding my way around the city wasn't nearly as bad as I thought it would be, especially since I had my contacts here and there, one of them being the New York clan leader, Simon Lewis.

Simon is practically a newborn compared to the others, but he was sick and tired of the actions of the old leader, Raphael Santiago, so he took over. Let's just say that there are less and less missing people's reports in that area, now. Over the years, Simon and I grew fairly close, and he was my only real friend. He respected me being a shadowhunter, while I respected his thirst for blood, so long as he doesn't kill anybody.

Another of my contacts was Luke Garroway, formerly known as Lucian Graymark when he was a shadowhunter; he is now the New York pack leader. He used to be very good friends with my parents when they were younger, but they had a falling out after he got ambushed and turned into a werewolf. Even after the falling out, him and my mom stayed in touch and he would always send me mundane novels since I loved to read; yes, I know I'm a hypocrite, I said the mundane world is stupid, but I like a wide variety.

He's a very laid back person, in contrast with my father. My father, Valentine, was basically a high-strung bundle of nerves. He had a bad temper, but he never let it get the best of him. He trained me well, and he wasn't very affectionate, but the way his eyes shone with pride told me all I needed to know.

The last contact isn't much of a friend, but more like an acquaintance: Magnus Bane, the High Warlock of Brooklyn. He adored my mother's artwork and was one of her regular buyers. You could say I have friends in high places.

Rather than calling ahead for a bit of a warning, I simply tracked Luke down to his bookstore; it will be the first time meeting in person. After a long trek through the streets, I finally arrive to a quaint looking store with a class front window filled with haphazardly stacked books. A man, presumably Luke, is towards the back of the store, but when I try to open the door, it is already locked. Instead of drawing an opening rune and scaring him, I knock.

He looks up from where he is moving books around, and his guard goes up instantly. He slowly walks to the door, and I wait patiently with my hands on my hips.

"Who are you, Nephilim?" he asks in a weary voice. I can see his nails sharpening slightly into claws, ready to fully change at a moment's notice. I smirk and shake my hair out as an answer. Everyone says I'm an exact replica of my mother, with her red curls, green eyes, and freckles. His eyes visibly widen after he gets a better look. "Jocelyn? How can…Impossible," he mutters in shock.

My smirk drops instantly when he mentions her name. "Try again, Graymark," I say in a neutral tone. The second he hears my voice he unlocks the door and pulls me into a big bear hug.

"Clarissa!" he says with joy, and I awkwardly hug him back. When he finally pulls back, I wrinkle my nose.

"You smell like a wet dog, Luke. No offense," I laugh lightly. He grins and shakes his head.

"How's that for a greeting? Come in, I'll take your bag," he gestures his arm towards the bookstore. I gladly walk in from the chilly wind and let him take my backpack.

"Nice store you got here," I say absent-mindedly as I run my fingers along the dusty spines of the books. At this moment, I want nothing more than a good book to curl up with in a warm bed, and a cup of black coffee.

As if reading my mind, Luke says, "I was just closing up, I assume you need a place to stay?"

"That'd be great, thanks," I smile back and realize that the second I walked in, my guard went down. _Weird. I feel so safe here, and it's the home of a werewolf pack leader. Never thought I'd say that…_I let my thoughts wander as I follow Luke to the back of the store.

"You're more than welcome to grab a book if you want. Just come up through the back," he gestures to the stairs that lead to a small landing, probably the entrance to his apartment.

"Tell me, can pack leaders read minds?" I joke and he chuckles and walks off with a 'no' for an answer. I walk up and down the aisles before settling on a classic, _A Tale of Two Cities. _I continue to skim the books out of curiosity before I make my way up to the attached apartment.

When I walk in through the small entrance, I take off my coat and hang it on one of the wall hooks, and wipe the mud off my feet on the mat. I can hear glass clanking, so I turn to the left into a small kitchen to see Luke rummaging through his fridge. To the right of the entrance is the living room and a door with multiple locks, probably a side entrance from the alley.

"Are you hungry? I don't have much, but I have a couple of cans of soup and stuff for sandwiches," Luke's head pops out from behind the refrigerator door.

"That's fine with me, do you need help?" I ask, but he declines and leads me to the spare bedroom that he says I can stay in. I decide to wash up a bit and unpack my things. Luckily for me, I came up with a _very _handy rune, similar to the charm in _Harry Potter,_ which expands the space in a bag, without making it heavy or large. The bag is a simple black backpack that one would use for school, but my rune allowed me to pack several outfits, mostly dark, several pairs of shoes and boots, a few weapons (I'm not too worried about carrying a bunch of weapons when I can just find a church and borrow from their stash), toiletries, and art supplies, of course. To anyone who didn't know about the rune, it would look like the objects were just disappearing into the bag, or like I was pulling them out of nowhere. I have to admit, my rune creating skills have come in handy in serious situations, as well as for little things like upgrading my storage space.

After unpacking all of my stuff, I make my way back to the kitchen to find Luke. When I enter, he is pouring the soup into bowls. Seeing that he has the food handled, I choose a cupboard at random to search for cups. To my luck, I find the cups on my first try, and think to myself, _Lucky guess!_

"What do you want to drink, Luke?" I ask politely.

"I'll just have water, thanks. There's some soda in the fridge if you want that, though," he adds. I put a couple of ice cubes in each of our cups, and pour myself a class of Dr. Pepper, _my favorite_, and get Luke some water from the refrigerator's water filter.

When we sit to eat, neither of us speak for a few minutes. As always, my mind wanders from the present, and I drift off to thoughts of the golden boy from earlier, Jace. He was definitely a boy to watch out for; conniving and arrogant, not likely to give up until he gets his way. _Yeah, he is definitely an arrogant ass, _I think with a small laugh, gaining Luke's attention. He raises an eyebrow in question, but I pretend to not notice, and go back to my thoughts. The boy had really nice hair, though, and he was obviously well-trained. It would be a close fight if we went at it. He was literally golden, his hair, his eyes, even his skin was a beautiful golden color. _He's pretty cute, actually. No, scratch that, he's _hot.

"Did you just remember something funny?" Luke asks with a smile.

"Huh?" I ask with a confused look.

"Well, you _were _smiling pretty widely. Either you remembered a joke, or you're thinking of a boy," he teases nonchalantly.

"Of course not!" I lie with a sly grin. "You know I don't have time for boyfriends. I'm a busy girl," I smile, and realize the truth of what I said. I don't have time to be ogling at boys, and letting them distract my mind, even if they are perfect…_No, stop that! _The tiny voice in my head scolds. With a resigned sigh, I decide to forget about it.

"You're lying," Luke says calmly. "I'm very good at reading people, you know."

"Whatever, it's nothing, really. I followed a group of shadowhunters on their hunt. They ran into Agramon, and I saved their asses; they'd be dead if I hadn't followed them," I explain with a shrug.

"Let me guess, there were three of them. Two boys and a girl. One of the boys was tall, blonde, perhaps?" he asks with a knowing grin.

"So you _are _a mind reader!" I joke around, gaining myself a laugh from him. "Seriously though, how'd you know?"

He smiled from having guessed correctly. "The Lightwoods, they live in the New York Institute. I used to be friends with their parents, Maryse and Robert. They knew your mother as well," he sighed the last part with a sad look on his face. I stayed silent as I watched his face intently. His features flickered through emotion after emotions, showing sadness, anger, loss…and love? _That can't be right, _I think silently. _They were just friends, right? _

When he looked up again, I could see his heart breaking through his eyes, the windows into his soul. He stared at my hair with an empty, sad look. _I look just like my mother, _I slowly come to a realization. _Oh my God, Luke was in love with my mother. _

I knew I had a look of pity on my face for him, and his eyes widened a fraction when he saw that I knew. "Luke, I'm so sorry-" I start but he cuts me off with the wave of a hand and a sad look.

"Don't, Clary. It's not your fault, so you have no reason to be apologizing," he says firmly, but still gently. We lapsed back into silence.

"Do you know what the worst day of my life was?" he asked quietly, so quiet I almost didn't hear it all. I shake my head slightly, and he sighs and goes on. "It was the day of your parents' wedding. Seeing Jocelyn walking towards Valentine in that beautiful golden gown, it-" he stopped for a breath and to regain his composure. "It killed me inside. I've loved her since we were kids. I was the best man at their wedding; Valentine and I were like brothers. I thought he would never betray me, but he did. He took the woman I loved. He cast me out of their life when I turned.

We were on a hunt, infiltrating a nearby pack that had been on a killing spree. He was supposed to have my back; we were parabatai. He didn't even try; I was bit, and he dragged me back with him. The chances of actually contracting the virus are 50/50, but I got the bad end of it. I turned the next full moon.

Your mother and I kept in touch throughout the years, but we had to in secrecy. Valentine changed. He did unspeakable things. You don't need to know about that right now, Clary," he paused again and took a shaky breath. "And now, they're gone. He didn't protect her. You almost died, too," he whispered and put his hands on his face, rubbing furiously at his eyes with his palms as if trying to push the tears away.

I surprised him, and myself, when I got up from my chair and went around the table to wrap my arms around him. We stood there in peaceful silence for however long, until he heaved a great sigh and stood up.

"Don't worry about the dishes, I'll get them, okay?" I tell him kindly and he smiles sadly. "Go get some rest," I urge him. He walks away in a trance, undoubtedly still stuck in times past.

I swiftly gather all the dishes and scrape the leftovers into the trash, before washing the dishes. Once I was finished, I made my way to the guest bedroom, changed into sweatpants and a loose T-shirt, and flopped onto the bed with a groan. The book from earlier was left forgotten on the nightstand as I crawled under the covers and turned off the table lamp. The events of the day flooded back through my mind as I drifted to sleep, and the last thing I remember thinking about before sleep took me, was a pair of beautiful gold eyes.

I slept deeply through the night for the first time in a while, my dreams completely free from nightmares.

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**Please read and review!(: Let me know what you think. What do you guys want to see happen in this story? I'm still stuck between maybe having Valentine and Jocelyn survive the attack years ago, with Valentine evil and Jocelyn in hiding, or just making the story about Clary getting revenge on the demon that killed her parents. What do you think?**

**Thank you guys! Don't forget to check out my other story, The Benefit of the Doubt! **


	3. Chapter 3

**Wow! I can't believe the positive reviews I am getting! It's crazy and I love it. This chapter is sort of a filler, but I'm pleased with the way it turned out, So, here's chapter 3! **

**Disclaimer: Cassie Clare owns TMI, I own nothing, blah blah blah.**

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I wake up around six in the morning, as I always do. Like most shadowhunters, I am just programmed to rise early. After groggily rolling out of bed, I do my morning stretches that keep me so limber, and shower in the small bathroom. I take my time, because when I am traveling, such necessities are not easy to come by. By the time I am done, the mirror is foggy from the steam and I quickly walk the few steps to the bedroom that I am staying in. After drying off without the counter-productiveness of the steamy condensation in the bathroom, I change into a pair of comfortable leggings and a loose tank top with my lace up combat boots.

Since Luke doesn't seem to be up yet, I scribble a quick note telling him that I'll be back later tonight. Before leaving, I snatch up an apple from out of the fruit bowl and grab my messenger bag. Today, I'll spend my time as a normal, mundane girl, sightseeing and doing whatever it is that tourists do.

I silently breeze through the foot traffic like a wisp of smoke. I can go unnoticed easily, even if I am un-glamoured from the mundane eye. My plain clothes attract minimal attention, and I chose to tuck away my flaming red hair as well. Either way, I've never been pretty, so I don't expect to attract unwanted eyes that way. My messy mass of carrot colored hair usually does the job, which is why I often try to keep it put away to stay inconspicuous.

What I lack in beauty, I can make up 3 fold with my combat skills. If you gave me a spoon, I could utilize it to do some serious damage. If I can do any damage with a spoon, you couldn't imagine what I can do with a real weapon. _I'll bet that I could take Goldie Locks in a fight, too, _I think to myself with a self-righteous grin before turning my attention back to the smoggy scenery.

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By the time I see Times Square, the Empire State Building, and the Statue of Liberty (from afar, of course), I realize that I would much rather have been hunting or doing something a little more exciting. The landmarks were interesting in a way, but being a shadowhunter is my one and only true passion.

After passing by a whole block of old, run down hotels from the 1920's, I decide to give Simon a call. The decrepit brick buildings reminded me especially of him because he _is _the vampire clan leader, and the majority of the bloodsuckers live in The Hotel Dumont, or as they dubbed it, The Hotel Dumort. _At least they have a sense of humor_.

I quickly hit the speed dial button for my favorite vampire friend, and patiently hold the phone to my ear. He picks up after a few rings.

"Thank you for boarding the USS Enterprise, this is your captain speaking," is the greeting that I receive from his end of the line. _What a nerd!_

"Hey Si," I laugh into the receiver. "Guess who is in New York City at this very moment?"

"Uh, Sheldon Cooper?" he asks casually.

"Nope," I smile into the receiver. "Yours truly!"

"Seriously?" Simon asks in a shocked voice.

"Seriously," I assure him. The crowds of people continue to bustle past me in a rush, as if every single person is late for some sort of appointment. Just like ants, mundanes follow the leader, never daring to stray from the heavily treaded pathway of life.

"That's awesome!" he says with genuine enthusiasm. For a vampire, he sure hasn't lost much of his humanity. He doesn't even drink from humans- he gets blood from an underground blood bank for vampires. "We should meet up. It would be awesome to finally meet the infamous Clarissa Morgenstern."

We chat a little more before deciding on meeting tonight at Pandemonium, an all-ages club where downworlders mingle with unknowing humans. Apparently, the theme is very dark and sexy.

_I guess I need to go shopping, then, _I think with a sigh. I hate actually shopping, but I do have a damn good taste in fashion.

_Let's just get this over with…_

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By the time I finish combing the reputable New York shopping district, I feel satisfied and ready for a night out. I found a tight-fitting mint green dress with ovals cut out of the sides of my mid-section, along with my comfortably worn leather jacket and a pair of ankle-length booties in a lush black velvet color. The only pieces of jewelry that I really wear are the Morgenstern family ring and a couple of select necklaces carved out of electrum or adamas into runes. I choose to wear my golden electrum necklace with an angelic rune pendant on in, and the Morgenstern ring on my middle finger; I always have the Morgenstern ring somewhere on me, whether it be on my hand or around my neck, it never leaves my body.

It is well past sunset by the time I am done getting ready, so when I finish, I leave Luke's place immediately and head towards the club to meet Simon. The chilly New York night doesn't bother me because it is a lot colder in Idris; it's in the northern-most part of the hemisphere, so the winters are generally colder.

As I pull my phone out of the inside pocket of my jacket to text Simon, my finger brush against my stele and the miniature seraph blade that I have in there- just in case. That's another example of how handy my ability to create new runes is; even one of the smallest seraph blades wouldn't be able to fit in a pocket, but I created a rune to shrink it down to the size of a pen. When I name it, it will grow to its full length, rendering it lethal.

"Clary!" I hear a familiar voice call from up ahead. I look up and blink in astonishment at the boy standing before me. He has on jeans and a gray graphic tee with a yellow smiley face on it- complete with fangs dripping blood.

"Simon?" I ask tentatively. You can never be too cautious. He grins widely when he hears my voice, confirming my identity. He rushes to me, and for a second, I panic and my hand reaches instinctively for the blade in my jacket.

When he sees the worry on my face, he stops and holds his hands up in a reassuring gesture. "Easy, I'm not gonna bite you," he says jokingly.

"Not cool!" I exclaim and smile widely at him. He holds his arms open and lets me come to him this time. I hug him tightly and we stand there for a minute. "Wow. So we finally meet," I say when I pull back and hold him at arm's length.

"Yep, in the flesh. You look _amazing_, by the way," he stammers out the compliment, and I swear, if vampires could blush, he'd be tomato red right now.

"Thanks, you're not too shabby yourself," I return the compliment and take a moment to really look at him. Besides the typical pale skin of vampires, Simon has brown wavy hair and brown eyes, and his features are sharp, yet soft at the same time. In short, he's a _really _good looking guy. "And I _love _the irony of your shirt."

He smiles and boldly wraps an arm around my waist to lead me to the front of the line. The bouncer, a werewolf by the smells of it, waves us by and we get a few curses from the people waiting in line.

"Vampire privileges?" I ask with a sly smirk on my face. He shrugs, arm still around my waist, and leads me over to the bar. All the stools are taken, but one glance at Simon and I clears up two spots quickly; despite his silly t-shirt, he looks pretty scary.

"Something like that," he laughs and orders us two cokes, knowing very well that I don't care for alcohol.

"So how are you liking New York so far?" he asks in curiosity. I sip on my drink and think about the question before settling on an answer.

"It's…different. From Idris, I mean. It's a lot louder, busier, and the people are a lot ruder than back home, too. But overall, I really like it here. I could definitely get used to it," I laugh and nudge him in the side. "There's even an Institute here!"

"Yeah, sure," he mumbles, suddenly quiet. He was listening intently up until I mentioned the Institute, then he froze up.

"What is it?" I ask with a frown. He fidgets in the stool and looks everywhere but at me. When I prod him on, he gives up with a sigh and looks up at me.

"Let's just say, they don't like me much," he says flatly and nurses his soda in between pale hands. Since he seems so uncomfortable, I don't push the subject. Instead I take him by the hand and hop off my seat, leading him towards the writhing mass of bodies.

"Oh no, I don't dance," he refuses and tries to pull away, but I don't let him.

"Then why the hell did you bring me to a dance club?" I yell over the noise of the music and people. I pull him deeper into the crowd so he will be less likely to escape the trenches of the club. He grumbles out something, but it is lost with the surrounding noises. "Just give it a try!" I yell and let my body flow with the music. Soon enough, he gets into it and starts dancing as well. While my moves are graceful and mesmerizing, his are jerky and spastic, but at least he's trying. Plus, he seems to be having fun. Song after song come and go before I start getting tired.

"Let's get another drink," I suggest and he nods and dances through the crowd with me in tow. We bounce along to the music, but my bobbing and weaving is interrupted by a hard shoulder knocking into mine. _Hard._

"Watch where you're going, jackass!" I yell as I turn to eye the culprit, and end up facing a wall of leather. My eyes wander up the strong frame of the man standing in front of me, and eventually meet a familiar pair of molten gold eyes. Along with the golden eyes are his golden locks, and golden tan skin. How could I not remember this gorgeous man? Besides the obvious, I saved his ass, as well as his friends'.

"Ah, so we meet again," he smirks down at me as if I am but a child, and that annoys me.

"Better watch it, Goldie Locks. I might not be around to save you again," I shoot back in an equally haughty voice. His eyes lazily travel from my eyes to my feet, and back up again. _He's checking me out! _I think with a slight blush, but I regain my composure before he can notice.

"I do have a name, you know. I'm surprised you forgot it; not many women do," he says, smoothly brushing off my snide remark. I raise an eyebrow, something I have finally mastered after years of practice, and cross my arms over my chest, not only in an attempt to look fierce, but to also cover myself from his greedy eyes.

"Oh, I remember your name perfectly fine, _Jace_. It's not hard to forget someone so pompous." _Or gorgeous_, my mind adds on of its own accord.

"I never did catch your name, Red," he says, avoiding my remark once more.

I shrug. "That's because I didn't tell you," I lean in to whisper like it's a big secret between just the two of us. His golden eyes bore into mine, so I roll my eyes and tell him my name.

"Clary," I say. "Happy now?"

"Well, _Clary_, do you have a last name?" he asks in a way that makes it seem like he is flirting. _This guy has so many damn questions!_

"As a matter of fact, I do," I reply vaguely. _Oh my God, am I flirting back? _I ask myself. I don't have time for this kind of mundane stuff. _You _are _at a nightclub partying_, the tiny voice in my head whispers to me. I am such a hypocrite.

"Well _Clary_, care to join me?" he asks while holding his hand out to me. One part of me tells me to get back to Simon, to reject the mysterious Jace, while the other part tells me to go for it. _Ah, what harm will one dance do? _

As it turns out, one dance goes by quickly, followed by another, and many more after that too. We laughed and twirled around the dance floor. He told me a little about himself, so I decided to divulge some as well. He told me of his hatred for ducks, I told him of my love for mundane novels and anime.

When a particularly slower song came on, he subtly tugged me towards him. I was so high with laughter that I let him, and wrapped my own arms around his neck.

We stared into each other's eyes as we swayed around the crowded room, but it seemed as if it were just us two in the universe. It sounds so cliché, but now I understand what all these mundane love stories are talking about.

_What am I doing? _I scold myself. I shouldn't be getting involved with this boy, shadowhunter or not. Despite my internal dispute, I keep my arms locked around his neck, but I lower my gaze in embarrassment.

Jace senses my discomfort and places a gentle hand under my chin, tilting my head up to look at him. "Are you okay?" he asks in genuine concern. We've only known each other for a very short amount of time, but I am completely captivated by his allure.

My breath hitches at the proximity of our lips, and he definitely senses it, for he leans in closer, gauging my reaction. "Yes," I breathe out the answer to his verbal question, but it also answers the unspoken one in his eyes. He continues to lower his face, oh so slowly, down to mine. At last, our lips brush in a whisper of a kiss.

"There you are!" a voice yells, and I jump back in shock. I look over to see the dark-haired girl from the warehouse the other day- the one that was knocked out cold. "I see you've found another one to reel in," she says casually, but I instantly go into defense mode at her undertone.

"Excuse me?" I spit out at the girl. "If I remember correctly, I saved your life the other night." Her eyes widen as she really looks at me for the first time. The way I hold myself tall, the fierceness in my eyes, the marks peeking out on my wrists and legs. I see it all register on her face in an 'oh shit' moment.

"So _you're _the girl he's been talking about nonstop," she beams in a quick recover of her slip up. She seems so real, and I can't possibly stay mad at her. She was just calling how it is, or how it looked, and when she realized her mistake she took it back quickly, even if she didn't verbally apologize.

"Yeah, what do you need Isabelle?" Jace asks in a short voice, obviously annoyed that our kiss was interrupted. The girl- Isabelle- points to her red pendant as if it is the most obvious thing in the world. The ruby is encased in swirling lines of silver electrum, and I can see it almost glowing, or pulsing with its own life force.

Jace grins, Isabelle's interruption forgiven. "You wanna hunt some demons?" turns to me with a mischievous grin, and I can't possibly refuse the offer.

After all, demon hunting _is _my passion.

* * *

**What did y'all think? Let me know in that wonderful thing called a review! Now I know that the Clace part might have seemed rushed, but I wanted it that way so it could show how quickly they 'clicked' together. **

**SOOOO let me know what you think! If you want to see Clary's outfit, you can go to my Polyvore, the link is in my bio(: **

**Don't forget to check out my other story The Benefit of the Doubt! I just updated the other day! Outfits for that story are also on my Polyvore(:**

**Have an awesome week! -Emily**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey guys! Here is the next chapter, I lied on the A/N in my other story yesterday, I said I wasn't updating soon but I didn't realize that I had half of a chapter already done! I finished it last night, and here ya go! Hope you enjoy my lovely, lovely followers! **

**Also, I'm really really sad and disappointed in the lack of review that I have been getting, for both of my stories. It's making me doubt whether or not I should even continue the story. And that's just sad ): A simple review to let me know that y'all are actually interested would really make my day. Please?**

**Disclaimer: I only own the plot and any OC's(Which there are none yet). The amazing Cassandra Clare owns TMI!**

* * *

Isabelle leads us through the club to meet up with the dark-haired boy, whom she introduced as Alec, her brother. Jace and I walk side by side, our shoulders brushing more often than not, and he eventually places a hand on the small of my back to guide me through the crowd so we don't get separated. Alec frowns and shoots me daggers. _Is he jealous or something? _I wonder and study him curiously, which only acquires me another death glare; if only looks could kill.

"The usual?" Isabelle asks the boys and they nod, but Jace looks a little reluctant to agree. Isabelle grins mischievously and grabs my hand to lead me away with her. "Do you have any weapons?" she asks and I nod. She seems skeptical because none are visible, but continues to pull me along.

"What exactly are we doing?" I ask, wanting to know what the plan is so I'm not taken by surprise.

"We're the unsuspecting, mundane bait," she says as if it's the most natural thing in the world.

"You put yourself out there as _bait_?" I ask in disbelief. She gives me a funny look, almost as if to say _haven't you done this before? _Then her eyes trail down to my uncovered legs and she shakes her head.

"We have to do something about that," she says and points at my marked legs. "What size shoe do you wear?" she asks, and I reply. "Great, we're the same size."

She leads us to the restrooms and hops up onto the bathroom counter, patting the place beside her for me to join; I oblige. When she hikes up her floor length dress, I see that she has thigh high boots on, and that she wants to trade shoes.

"Smart," I compliment her quick thinking. She smiles and nods, and when we are done trading shoes, I find that her boots reach up to just over my knees and I tug my dress down so that it meets the cusp of the boots. We hop down from the counter and strut out of the bathroom.

"Now," she says, linking our arms, "We reel 'em in." I laugh lightly and we thread through the club together until we come to a halt near the bar.

Soon enough, we spot a black and blue-haired demon wooing a young-looking girl, probably too young to even be here in this club even though it is technically an all-ages club.

"Watch and learn, Clary," Isabelle says haughtily and strides over to the demon posing as a mundane and whispers something in his ear. He looks over to me and I give the sexiest smile I can muster regardless of the disgust churning in the pit of my stomach. Isabelle floats back over to me and wraps an arm around my waist, so I do the same and we dance through the crowd, through a maze of halls and into the storage room that we predetermined as our rendezvous point.

The room is dark, the only light filtering in from the busy street, dimmed by the grubby windows. Boxes of old strobe lights, smoke machines, and DJ booths litter the room, along with cords and wires coiled on the ground, waiting to trip someone. I wrinkle my nose at the dust floating around, making me feel like sneezing. We wait for minutes before anything happens.

When the door opens and the blue-haired demon come in, he grins maliciously at us. "Two young girls, inviting a stranger to be alone with them; stupid, stupid humans," he says in a bored voice, as if we are hardly worth his time. He's trying to scare us; he probably uses the same line for every girl he corners.

"Au contraire, démon, we are not alone," I say smoothly and take out my downsized seraph blade.

"Though, if we were, we could still handle you," Isabelle adds as her electrum whip slithers down her wrist. The demons eyes widen and he turns to retreat through the door, only to be faced with Jace and Alec, both brandishing their seraph blades as well. I quickly call my blade to life, and it grows from its pen-like form into its full two foot long figure.

The boys advance on the demon and it darts to the side, but Isabelle quickly flicks out her whip and it coils around his legs, bringing him to his knees on the dirty floor. He glares up at us with pure hatred burning in his black eyes.

Jace walks up to him slowly, twisting his blade in his hands to instill fear in the demon, who has stared at me the whole time. His black gaze is guarded, but I can see that he looks scared and curious at the same time.

"Now, how shall we dispose of you?" he murmurs in a dangerously low voice. He runs his index finger the length of the sharp blade, careful not to cut himself. "No begging? No pleading? You're no fun," Jace laughs out sharply. Jace, bored with the demon, who is _still _eyeing me, raises his seraph blade up, readying himself for the killing blow.

"Wait!" the demon blurts out, halting Jace's advancing blade. "I can give you information," he says in a breathless voice.

Alec laughs. "What kind of information could you possibly give us?" he says spitefully.

The demons eyes return to me with a flash of recognition. "You are Valentine's daughter," he says, making my eyes go wide in shock. My father is dead, as is my mother. "Rumor has it, he's alive."

"You're lying," I hiss and step forward, pushing Jace out of my way. "He's dead, and I _know _he's dead. I _saw _him die." I hold my blade to his throat, ready to slash it and stop his rambling.

"You haven't heard? Poor girl, last one to hear that her father is really alive. I'll bet your mother is too, but they apparently abandoned you," he eggs me on, seeing that he has no room for escape and making the worst out of an already bad situation.

The three other shadowhunters stand there listening to us, weapons still at the ready, but they are obviously shocked at the reveal of my heritage.

"You know nothing." The blade in my hand jerks to the side with the sickening noise of its neck being abscised from the shoulders. "I have to go," I say flatly and turn on my borrowed heels to exit the storage room.

My mind buzzes with anticipation and nervousness. Demons lie all the time, and I'm almost positive that the creature was lying too, but it planted a seed of doubt. _What if my parents are alive? I didn't _see _them die, they ordered me to run as they lay there dying, or so I thought. _

I weave through the crowd, shoving those who would not move. I was not in the mood to deal with stubborn mundanes, so I gave out glares by the dozen at anyone who stopped to stare. My mind was leaving me, going back to the day that we went on a family hunt, the day that my life changed.

* * *

_We lived in a secluded mansion in a very small valley, far away from any Idrisian towns. Every so often, my mother and father and I would go out on a sort of family hunt where they would evaluate my skills in real combat and help me improve. It was one of those nights._

_We got a tip that there was a small cluster of demons that penetrated the border and were nesting in a nearby forest. I rode my Percheron, Miss Lucie, named after the main heroine in my favorite novel, "A Tale of Two Cities". My parents each rode their horses as well, my father leading with mother and I flanking him on either side as always. _

_We rode for miles upon miles until we reached our destination: a dreary-looking mountainside bordered with a dying forest. We searched for hours until we found a hidden crevice that lead into a dank cave. Little critters scampered across the floor, water dripped from every surface, and the air was musty and hard to breathe. We stayed grouped together since we were in a new environment. We wandered and listened for any signs of demons for a while before stumbling on some evidence that indicated the presence of demons nearby._

_The smell of rotted garbage permeated the air with its bitter smell, but we followed it until we came to a room of sorts. Hydra and Scorpios demons stood clustered in the room, hissing in foreign languages. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I remembered that those kinds of demons often served as bodyguards, but it was quickly forgotten as my father worked out an eager plan of attack. My mother seemed hesitant; she's a great fighter, but she doesn't like fighting often and she always goes with her gut feeling. _

_The fighting goes by in a simple blur, we take out all the demons in a breeze of slashing, swiping, and jabbing. Before we know it, the demons are gone._

_Satisfied, my father turns to lead us back outside. We make it out easily, but when we exit the cave, we find the area splattered with blood, like red paint carelessly thrown on a once-beautiful canvas. My beautiful white Percheron lay slaughtered alongside my parents' horses, their beautiful manes shredded and lying in tufts on the ground. I draw my sword, ready to massacre whoever- or whatever- dared lay a hand on my Lucie. _

_None of us were expecting Agramon._

* * *

"Clary!" someone yells, but I drown them out, still heading for the club exit, sickened by the memories and in need of somewhere to empty my stomach. "Clary!" the voice calls again, and I continue pushing on towards the exit, which is now so close to my reach. The owner of the voice grabs my wrist and spins me around suddenly, and I have my dagger out and poised at their throat.

Simon's scared eyes stare at me, sending distress signals. I place the knife back into my thigh-sheath and turn to continue walking. Simon followed closely on my heels, annoying me. "Not now, Simon. Leave me alone," I yell over the noise. He tries to ask me what's wrong, so I turn and push him to get my message through: I don't want to talk or to be talked to.

He looks worried as I tell him once more to leave me alone, and the bile rises slowly up my stomach, and I know if I don't find a bathroom or empty alley soon, some mundanes are going to be very angry with my upset stomach. Simon must see the sickly look on my face because he mutters for me to call him and leaves without another word.

I now have to race for the exit, and I barely make it into the alley before my stomach turns out onto the ground. Tears try to prickle at the back of my eyes, but I don't let them. I blink hard several times to force them back. When I am done, I spit the remnants of my saliva into the trash and wipe the back of my hand across my mouth.

I turn to leave, and head back to Luke's, but my path is blocked by the familiar leather clad muscles that I always seem to run into. Jace's golden eyes gaze down at me in curiosity before he steps back to give me room, which I gratefully use to glide past him in an attempt to leave. Whatever happened between us in the club earlier _can't _happen again. I can't be distracted with a boy.

To my utter dismay, Jace catches my wrist in his slim, calloused hand. I stop in my tracks and clear my face before I turn and yank my hand back. "Do you need something?" I ask sharply. He smirks at my brusqueness, but holds out a bottle of water, offering it to me.

I eye the bottle peculiarly as if there is a catch, and I'm just not seeing it. I don't even know the guy, and he's following me into an alley and offering me water. _Well, you did dance with him and almost kiss him, _the tiny voice in my mind says.

"It's not poisoned or anything," Jace says, jokingly trying to reassure me. I roll my eyes and gratefully take the water bottle, water-falling some into my mouth, swishing, and spitting it out to the side. With the horrible taste and all remnants gone, I chug half of the remaining water. "Very classy," Jace says with a smirk when I am finished.

"Does it look like I give a shit?" I say, using my 'French' to make the point. "It's not like I'm trying to impress anyone," I say.

"Really? Because most girls will fight fo-" he doesn't get to finish because I cut him off.

"Don't," I say, raising a warning hand. "I'm not in the mood," I say with a razor edge to my voice. Jace's smirk grows, as does his already inflamed ego.

"That's got to be the first time a girl's ever said that to me," Jace mused with a fake, thoughtful smile. I roll my eyes and brush past him and onto the sidewalk teeming with people.

"Obviously, it doesn't hurt your ego one bit," I say and continue walking with no destination in mind.

"Never," he smiles at me and keeps in step with my fast pace- as fast as my short legs will carry me, at least.

I don't reply, and since he doesn't try striking up conversation, I let him walk with me in hope that he will get bored and leave me be. Too bad that just doesn't seem to be the kind of person he is.

"You hungry?" he asks politely.

"No," I say, not really in the mood to go anywhere with him, but my stomach betrays me with a loud growl.

"Sure you're not, Red," he says sarcastically. Sarcasm seems to be one of his most dominant traits, I've noticed. Good thing I'm fluent in sarcasm.

"What does it matter to you?" I ask lightly, already getting pulled into the friendly banter.

"Just being polite. It's not like me to just leave a girl stranded and hungry."

"You mean, it's not like you to _not_ try to get into a girls bed," I reply haughtily.

"Are you asking me? Most girls aren't _that_ bold," he laughs lightly, trying to charm me.

"I can see right through your act, so you can stop it now. It does get a tad annoying after a while," I say and glance up at him. His golden eyes are staring at me with a curiosity that I have yet to see on him in the short amount of time that I've known him- which is only a span of two days.

"Can you, now?" he murmurs quietly, still gazing at me intently. I feel a rush of blood heat my cheeks at his scrutiny, and I turn my head, letting my hair fall around me.

"Don't you have somewhere to be?" I ask in another feeble attempt to get rid of him. I want nothing more than to head back to Luke's and sleep off the events of the evening.

"As a matter of fact, I do," he says while glancing at the nonexistent watch on his wrist. "Do you have a phone I could use to make a call?" he asks politely. I oblige since it will get him on his merry little way sooner.

I hand him my cell and he dials a number and holds the phone to his ear. Then, a faint ringing sound comes from one of his many pockets. He reaches into an inside pocket on his leather jacket and pulls out his very own cell phone. I realize with a frustrated huff what he just did.

"Thanks for your number," he says smoothly and shrugs his shoulders innocently. I roll my eyes and snatch my phone back from his grasp, almost dropping it in the process.

"I bet that's not the first time you've ever used that one," I say in irritation. I can tell that he gets around a lot, just from his cocky confidence and the way he talks to me.

"I'm nothing if not honest," he chuckles. "I can admit to that much."

"Very smooth; I'll take that as a yes. Now that you've weaseled my number into your grasp, would you mind letting me be?" I ask with annoyance, frustration, and tiredness present in my voice. His sarcastic grin dims into a smaller, more genuine one and he nods slowly.

"I'll call you!" he shouts as I walk away. I laugh under my breath and call back a reply.

"Don't count on an answer," I say lightly and continue the trek back towards the comfort of Luke's small bookstore in much better spirits that may or may not be due to a certain golden boy.

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**Here ya go guys! I hope you enjoyed this chapter, because I sure did enjoy writing it, and I hope you enjoy the foreshadowing! ;D**

**If you want to know what Clary's outfit looks like, you can go look on my polyvore; the link is on my bio! There are also outfits for my other story, The Benefit of the Doubt. **

**Now, I shall leave your minds wondering what's going to happen next! Reviews will seriously help boost my confidence and inspiration! **


	5. Chapter 5

**Heyooo guys! I am back! I don't even know where this chapter came from, it just came as I wrote. I'm fairly please with how it turned out(: Tell me what you think!**

**Disclaimer: Cassie Clare owns TMI & all the characters. ):**

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When I woke the next morning, my head screamed at me to draw a strong _iratze_, and go back to sleep. Despite the fact that I had nothing to drink the night before, I felt hung over and miserable. I got up with a groan, did my morning stretches, and went to the small bathroom to shower before dressing and heading downstairs.

"Clary?" Luke calls, undoubtedly hearing my footsteps on the creaky wooden stairs. I wince at the volume of his booming voice, and promise my aching head that I will find some pain-killers to take. Believe it or not, even most shadowhunters used over-the-counter pharmacy medicines for small pains.

"Yeah?" I call back, and go to the kitchen to grab a snack. I search the fridge for a cold water bottle, then grab an apple from the fruit bowl. I hear murmurs from the living room as I crunch into the juicy red fruit, and I slowly round the corner to the living room.

"You have a visitor," Luke says just as I round the corner and I think, _who even visits this early?_ My eyes land on Luke with his slightly scruffy beard and over grown hair. I smile fondly, and my eyes finally scan the rest of the room. Everything looks the same. The comfortably worn brown leather couches remained empty, and Luke was standing near the door, as if he had just answered it. The blinds were pulled back, letting the bright early morning light filter in, bathing the room with a beautiful glow, making the whole place look extremely cozy.

I missed before, though, the man leaning against wall directly next to the window. The brightness bathed the room, as well as the familiar blonde that stood there with his muscular arms crossed over his chest, and his wavy hair falling in his eyes. He stepped forward, now standing in front of the large window, and I could see him much more clearly, without the camouflage of the warm yellow light.

"Wow, now you're stalking me? Nice," I comment coolly, apple still in hand. He smirks, something he seems to do an awful lot, and opens his mouth to answer.

"Not stalking, merely searching the whole city to find your place of current residency," he corrects with an amused flame brightening his eyes. "Besides, Isabelle wanted me to retrieve her boots," he said and also gestured to my traded pair of heels that lay neatly under the coat rack near the door. I roll my eyes.

"You could have sent me a text message, you know," I shoot back and take another bite of the apple. Jace's eyes seem to follow my every movement, from the moment I lift the apple to my lips, to the moment I lick the juice off of my lips after I swallow. It seems that I'm the new target of his affection. _But, guys like him don't dabble too long with one girl, _I think snarkily, not wanting to be his next play-thing.

Luke is still standing near the door, looking confused as hell and a little concerned at our odd bickering. I look at him, hoping to convey my message silently, and he seems to understand, for he excuses himself, and goes to the front, where the bookstore lays. I walk over to the couch and sink into the comfortable leather, letting my head loll back and my eyes close. I soon feel a shift in weight as Jace sits down at the other end, giving me my space; that, I am thankful for.

"What did you _really _come here for, Lightwood?" I ask, letting the exhaustion flow freely into my voice. He stays silent for a few moments longer that I expected, so I roll my head to the side, facing him, and open my eyes a crack. He is leaned back, in a similar position to mine, but his gaze is trained intently on the ceiling. As if sensing my shift of attention, he looks over to me, and his golden eyes pierce through my green ones.

"I wanted to ask you out," he said honestly, and with a shrug, he returned to the jeering jerk that I am (sadly) already used to.

"What in the world makes you think that I would go out with an ass like you?" I say sharply, trying to hide the fact that I _do _want to go out with him. What harm could one date do?

"I know I have a nice ass, thank you Clary," he says, not able to hold back, and I know that he is grinning like the Cheshire cat without even looking. He's way too confident, that much is painfully obvious, so I find it my responsibility to knock him down a peg.

"No," I say in a slightly higher, sing-song voice, showing my defiance. "I don't really think so. And to answer your question, _no _I will not go out with you," I say without making eye contact. He seemed stunned into silence for a moment, but he quickly recovered. At least I found the chink in his armor; his pride. Not a big shocker, really.

"Well," he says slowly, "How about two people going and getting coffee?" I snort at the suggestion, though I do really like coffee. He raises an eyebrow questioningly. "Give me two good reasons why you can't just go get coffee with me," he says smartly. _Easy, _I think. I can list about ten, but I'll settle for the two major reasons.

"Hmm," I hum and place a finger on my chin, as if thinking deeply. "Well, there is the fact that you're a complete and utter jerk. But I'm sure you already know that, as well as everybody else," I say and glance at him to gauge his reaction. His face is completely blank, but I can see his jaw twitch slightly in annoyance. I sigh, letting up a little bit. "And I just don't have the time, to be honest."

"No time?" he asks curiously. I nod slowly, looking him in his slowly de-frosting eyes.

"Trust me, I'm not in the Big Apple for fun," I say. I'd much rather be back in Idris, in my old home. But if I ever go back there, it will open the floodgates of horrible memories and death.

When I look over again, I see his eyes focused on something above my head, but I know that nothing is there; his mind is a million miles away, lost in his own memories. "Did you grow up in Idris?" I asked softly, not wanting to disturb his silent peace. Somehow, I feel comfortable sitting here with him, no matter how cocky he acts, no matter how rude I act just to put him off. I can't help but wander back to the night before, when we were together in Pandemonium, dancing as if we were the only ones there. Jace's body heat radiating onto me, his hot breath tickling my neck and stirring my hair, his strong arms holding me close to his body, swaying to the soft music; they all penetrated my thoughts as I studied his strong features.

At the time, it seemed absolutely perfect, but I can't afford to sit around and slack off. I wasn't lying either; I _am _here for a reason. I can't deny the attraction I feel towards him, he's absolutely stunning. Still, I can't help but wonder why he would want anything to do with me. I could tell upon meeting him that he's a player, and that he goes through girl after girl. His personality- if you could even call it that, rather than just a big head- paired with his golden looks was a combination made in heaven; yet I couldn't imagine him being interested in someone like me, someone as strong and fiery and stubborn as him. He was definitely the type of guy to go for blonde bimbos and faeries.

Yet again, I felt my hands itching to draw him, his facial structure, his eyes, anything to capture him on paper. My eyes followed his cheekbones, down to his low jaw-line, until they finally rested on his full lips. They came so close to kissing me last night, but we were interrupted before they could even brush against mine in a ghost of a whisper. It made my stomach flip thinking about it.

"Yeah, when I was younger," he says, startling me out of my thoughts. I'm sure my face betrayed my confusion, because he smiled and reminded me of what I had asked, making me feel like a fool. I had asked him if he had lived in Idris, before New York.

"What made you come here? It's so much more beautiful there. Less smog, less noise, more green," I asked curiously, listing off the reasons that made Idris better than this stink hole. He nodded, blinking slow and hard, pushing something back.

"My parents, they died when I was seven," he whispered solemnly. In that moment, he sounded so sad and broken, though the Angel knows how hard he tried to hide it. I wasn't fooled.

"Trust me when I say I know how that feels," I say and awkwardly place a hand on his forearm in comfort; he hardly seems to notice it. The broken boy is gone in a snap, and he is back to normal, eyes burning with unanswered questions. I knew this was coming, though, and braced myself.

"Do you mind if I ask you something?" he says politely, shocking the hell out of me. I wasn't expecting him to ask permission to ask questions, I figured he would just blurt them out. I nodded and he sighed. "Your father was Valentine Morgenstern?"

I sucked in a sharp breath in shock, even though I knew it was coming. I lean back against the cushions and close my eyes, tilting my head back. "Yes," I croak and then lean forward to grab my water bottle from the coffee table. After taking a sip, I look at him, and remembering my manners, I ask him if he wants anything, which he refuses. "Something to drink?" I ask, but he still refuses, saying that he is fine.

"I'm sorry for, you know, your parents," he says awkwardly, rubbing his palms over the knees of his dark jeans. I shrug nonchalantly, not wanting him of all people to see how much I missed them.

"You too," I murmur back with sympathy. His parents died probably about ten years ago, since he seems about seventeen. I remember hearing about a couple dying, leaving behind a small child. The father died in combat, and the mother, wrought with grief, committed suicide. The Herondale's, if I remember correctly, were also close friends of my parents, especially Valentine. "Is your last name truly Lightwood?"

He looks startled, something I silently prided myself in since he seems so hard to surprise, and his eyes meet mine again. "No," he says slowly. "My name is Jace Herondale. My parents were Stephen and Celine Herondale." So I was correct.

"I'm sorry. My parents were good friends with yours, when they were younger," I murmur, giving him his space. He rolls his shoulders, stretching and shrugging at the same time. His supple leather jacket rolled with them, making him all the more appealing. I've always had a thing for guys in leather.

"I only go by Lightwood because they're more family than Stephen and Celine were," he says with little strain. "They weren't around much. Then when they died, the Lightwood's took me in and raised me. They're the only family I've got now."

I knew how it felt to be lonely, even when your parents were right there. My father had never been very loving; he was brutally honest and all he cared about was training me to be the best, which I didn't mind too much. My mother was much closer to me; we shared a love of art, and she taught me how to have compassion, although it doesn't come in handy much. Still, she was distant, always seeming to be far away in her own mind, leaving a small replica of herself to teach herself a lot of stuff that mothers should have.

Like the first time I got my period, when I was eleven, I thought something was wrong with me. I was so scared that I huddled in the bathroom sobbing until my mother realized my absence and came to find me; it took her hours to come. I was scared, and when she found me she smiled kindly and calmed me down, explaining everything to me. She even stayed with me until I fell asleep in bed, but after that, I couldn't help but resent her for not talking with me earlier. It was her obligation as a mother to be there for me and to explain the way certain stages of life work. She was so absent-minded that it sometimes seemed like she forgot she even had a daughter.

And now, I have nothing. I have no family to lean on, no mother to call when I get home sick. I'm almost seventeen years old, and I'm completely on my own in this world since the Clave deemed me fit to live on my own. Even they didn't care for my well being, when they should have kept me under care until I turned of age. Apparently, being the fifteen year old daughter on Valentine Morgenstern meant that I was on my own.

Jace's hand gently presses down on my own, startling me so much that I almost yelp. I look at his hand, and then up at him in pure curiosity. He smiles kindly, and I detect a hint of sadness in his golden irises.

"Are you okay?" he asks quietly, still staring into my eyes. I belatedly feel my breath hitch, for he is sitting close to me now, our thighs and shoulders brushing. I tear my gaze from him almost painfully, and also gently tug my limp hand out of his. _No, I'm not okay. I have nothing, nobody, _I wanted to say so badly, but I bite my tongue to refrain. "You're thinking about your parents, aren't you?"

My eyes shoot up to his in astonishment. _Is it that clear on my face?_ "How could you tell?" I ask. He shakes his head, causing long blonde tendrils to cover his eyes, and sits back on the sofa again.

"Us orphans can pick each other out," he murmurs with a bit of amusement. How is any of this funny? I raise my eyebrows in question. "I know how it feels." He looks into my eyes with such sadness that it breaks my heart. It feels nice, though, knowing that someone can sympathize with my feelings- not that I want their pity, it's just that him admitting his loneliness makes me feel _that _much less alone. It's nice.

"Why don't you show me to the Institute?" I blurt out, not even thinking about it. I wanted nothing to do with this man one moment, and then, suddenly my mouth decides to blab. He instantly perks up at the suggestion, and a sly smile slides across his face, making me doubt my decision.

"So you're taking me up on my earlier offer?" he asks nonchalantly, as if he knew I would agree all along. I roll my eyes and stand up.

"Being a shadowhunter, I can enter the Institute as I please. Going there with you is hardly a date," I chide and walk out of the living room, towards the stairs to go grab my shoes and a jacket. Currently, I am in only a pair of skinny jeans and a white 'Nirvana' midriff that looks like a normal shirt on my small frame. Despite the fact that I bag on mundies a lot, they do have a few select things about them that are great. Some authors, some artists, some musicians; but it's not like I'm obsessed or anything.

"You can hang out in here; I need to grab some shoes," I say, but he follows me up the stairs and into my room, probably just to irk me. He leans against the door jamb with his arms crossed, and watches me as I root around for my brown boots and tan cardigan. You never know when it might get chilly in New York, that much I've learned. He watches me intently while I grab my shoes from the floor, and I quickly straighten up when I realize why, and sit down with a blush on my cheeks.

"Ready to go?" he asks when I stand up and pocket my wallet and phone. I nod and lead him down the stairwell, and through the bookstore to find Luke. He sits perched on a stool behind the cash register with his nose buried deep in a book, spectacles sliding down his nose. I walk to stand before the counter and he holds up a finger without looking up, eyes still glued to the page. After a few second, he dog-ears the page and sets the book down. When he looks up, he seems surprised to see me standing there.

"Thought you were a customer," he says with a laugh, and his eyes travel over to Jace who is lingering a few paces behind me. "Going somewhere?"

"To the Institute, apparently," I sigh. "So I can check in with them. I think I'll be in New York for a while."

"Yeah," Jace says walking up to me and boldly wrapping an arm around my waist. "Hot date at the Institute, I'm even introducing her to my mother," he says seriously. Luke's eyebrows rise at the sight his arm resting around me and my suddenly rigid appearance.

"Yeah, sure," I say sarcastically, and accentuate it with an eye roll. I pointedly pick up his arm by the sleeve of his jacket and drop it at his side. "In your dreams, Lightwood." Luke and Jace both chuckle at this, and hard as I try, I can't keep a small smile from slipping onto my lips. "You guys done, yet? I'd like to get going," I huff after the laughing subsides, and we say good-bye and make our way towards Central Park; Jace says the Institute is close by.

* * *

**How is you? Is you good, cuz i'd like ta know! lol, anyone who watches Glozelle on YouTube knows what I mean xD **

**Seriously, how are y'all? I'm doing pretty well. Except I'm getting writers block with my other story, The Benefit of the Doubt ): I know where I want it to eventually go, but I have no clue how to get it there. If you've read it, any suggestions? I definitely want to put Malec in it, I've got a bit written, but it's not a lot. Should I post it anyways so you guys have something to read for TBotD? If you haven't read it, check it out! It was my first fanfic(: **

**Hey, any suggestions for good TMI fics? I recommend anything by Wisterianprincess, she's an amazing writer! **

**My beta has been experiencing interweb difficulties, so this chapter is un-beta'd. Oh well, I looked over it, how bad could it be? *Knocks on wood***

**Tell me whats yous alls thinks of it! I wanna know. **

**LOVE YOU GUYS! -Emily**

**PS: Check out my Polyvore! There's a collection of outfits from TBotD and SR (The Benefit of the Doubt & Sweet Revenge!)**


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